Poetry Month Day 3: On Old Film

4-3-17a

I used to have an amazing long term memory. It isn’t quite what it was, but in a way, I think that protects me a little. I try to remember and the haze is both annoying and comfortable. Anyway, here’s a poem.

On Old Film

My
past
will fade
into dream
until memory
transforms the facts into fiction

It
leaves
a strange
sensation
that buzzes behind
my agreed upon consciousness

Still
time
to shape
the aching
into better days
callouses become paint brushes

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